


By My Desire

by Lipstickcat



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, ToT: Chocolate Box, ToT: Monster Mash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Lipstickcat
Summary: Dwalin dreams of a beautiful dwarf maiden that can grant his greatest desire. When he gets his wish, is everything as it should be?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts).



> This fic was written with the intention of it being a trick. However, there are elements of a treat as well. Best of both worlds, I hope.

_Choose_. 

She was exceptional. More glorious each time he saw her. More overwhelming in the dark energy that whipped around her like fast flowing smoke. The braids of her beard were beaded with jade that rippled in the light like dragon eyes, gathering up the sleek tips of her hair that curled over well rounded breasts. Her arms were stocky and strong. She smelled loamy, like the rich soil that cradled the roots of mountains. 

_Choose. Now_.

Part of him had known that this was coming, but he still wasn't prepared. Now the moment was slipping away and if he didn't make a choice he would be given no other chances. 

Behind her, the world seemed to collapse. Night folded in on itself, blackness swallowed by yet more blackness. The rush of air roared in his ears and made it impossible to think. 

From the floor, Dwalin gazed up at her in her terrible magnificence. He felt the rush of power as he gripped his own knees in search of reassurance. In her shadow he felt eclipsed. Nothing more than a round, smooth pebble at her feet, waiting to be picked up and thrown. His fingers ached as he uncurled them and he began to scrabble in dirt and rock dust, making barely a shallow dent in the ground that he pressed a small, sharp seed into. 

As he made his choice, he looked up and stared her in the face with mustered, faked, determination. 

***

Dwalin woke with a sharp intake of breath. It whistled through his chest, only to be immediately expelled again in a hoarse, hacking coughing fit. Doubling up in his bed, Dwalin coughed until his throat was sore, until there was no more. 

Already the dream was fading, only a slight feeling of ill-ease lingering. He got up and prepared himself for the day. Dain was to visit the men that had returned to Dale. He would take them payment for both the work they were undergoing to rebuild the city, and reparations for that which Thorin had owed those that came from Lake-Town. Dwalin was to join the party, in part out of his own personal interest, in part to join Dain's own guard.

... Mahal... But his mouth tasted like some small rodent had crawled onto his tongue and died while he slept...

***

No matter the time of day or night, the mountain rang with activity. The sounds of hollow, ringing clinks and clatters had become soothing to Dwalin. They were rhythmic, like the inner workings of a clock, and reassuring him that Erebor was no longer in the unworthy claws of a dragon, but back under the skilled and loving hands of Dwarrow. As he made his way towards the kitchens to hopefully find Bombur and a hearty breakfast though, Dwalin felt that there was a beat missing in the work around him that morning. The atmosphere felt chill and still, as if whole work forces had been stolen away. His dream started to form back in his mind. The uneasy feeling grew. 

Fingers suddenly grabbed him by the elbow, wrapping and tugging. Dwalin spun around. He found himself face to face with Nori, his familiar features covered by wide-eyed concern. 

"Dwalin. You need to come, now." 

He didn't hesitate nor question his friend. Their pace almost at a run, he followed Nori deeper into the heart of the mountain. 

At first the noise was faint, a foreign hum that he didn't register over the sound of his own breathing as he hurried along the path. Then he realised where they were going: This path was sacred to him and had only one destination. The hum stretched and increased and grew into a more recognisable noise. A scream. 

"Nori?" His heart was now thumping in his chest. It hurt. Nori just shook his head and pressed on. 

It couldn't be. 

The end of the corridor opened out into the burial chamber deep in the mountain. Now Dwalin could see where many of the dwarves that were missing from their work posts were. They were gathered around the source of the sound: One of the tombs. They were working to remove the boulders and ornaments that were piled over the sarcophagus, passing what they could back in chains, anything too large being toppled to the side in haste. Dwalin knew which Durin was entombed there. He would have known anyway, he had visited all three regularly since their funeral. 

"I need to get through." He mumbled, his mind in a fog, not believing what he was seeing. Then repeated, louder and more firmly to Nori: "I need to get through." 

Nori stepped forwards, but Dwalin had already started to push his way through the crowd that was gathering around the tomb. Many at the back were not able to help but still they pressed in, either wanting to try anyway or merely wanting to see what was happening. Dwalin wasn't gentle as he squeezed past, his frustration growing as he gruffly demanded that the others move and make a path for him. 

"Step aside! Let Dwalin pass!" A small but firm voice piped up. Dwalin looked across to see Ori, his young face written with the same confused worry that was on his brother's. Dwalin managed a thankful nod as he squeezed through.

The pressure of the crowd all at once seemed to break off and Dwalin realised that he was at the front. His hand rested on the cool stone chest, as he had stood before it once before. But this time, there was no melancholy peace, the solitude shattered by the din of agitated dwarves and the cries from beneath the stone. So close, he could tell now that the shouts were not one long continuous sound but a staccato of loud cries and screams that rang through the cavern, punctuated by silence. In those moments of silence, though, Dwalin could hear the ragged gasping breaths from within the tomb. 

"Help me get this off!" 

Multiple pairs of hands joined his on the lid and pushed. Slowly at first, the stone began to shift. Dwalin grunted and dug his toes into the dusty floor of the chamber. He leaned as hard as he could and the lid rumbled free. 

Kili looked up at him, through him, with manic eyes. He was panting hard. The ornate chainmail links of his burial armour shifted with every rise and drop of his chest. The gloved hand that wasn't wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword was gripping just as tightly to the edge of the blade, and a rivulet of crimson glistened over the dark leather of his belt. Dwalin immediately moved to ease Kili's palm open and release it from the bite of his sword, then the other fist from the haft. 

Against his ear as he bent over Kili's body, he heard the thick, wet gasp as Kili opened his mouth again. Another loud holler rang through the air, this time crisp and unmuffled by the stone. 

Around them, Dwalin was aware of responding cries of fear, astonishment, joy and worship as the news that their prince was alive spread. While some dwarves clamoured to see and aid Kili, others were already crying out to start to unearth the other two tombs. 

No. Dwalin didn't want to be here for that. He knew what would be found in those tombs and he had no desire to see. 

"Let me take him." Before anyone could launch a protest, Dwalin reached into the sarcophagus and hefted the young dwarf from it. Kili made several weaker cries as he was lifted, punctuated by vague confused noises. His arms flailed. He hit Dwalin's arms and body, but the smacks were not hard and when Dwalin pulled him tighter to his chest Kili seemed to calm a little. 

"I will take care of him." 

No one stopped him as Dwalin carried Kili from the chamber, though some dwarves trailed after him. Dwalin barely paid them any attention, their words unheeded. Kili curled against him. Even through the layers of Dwalin's own clothes he could feel how cold the young dwarf felt, as cold as the stone he'd been lain upon. Dwalin hoped that his own body heat would help warm him. 

Entering his own quarters, he barked at the followers to leave them be, and his conviction was enough to stay their feet as he entered his bedchamber. Dwalin laid Kili on his bed. Carefully, he began to strip the armour from the young prince, working down to his linen underclothes. It was easier to keep himself busy and concentrate on helping Kili, otherwise Dwalin would be forced to think about what he had done, how his dreams had come true and what that actually meant. He spoke softly to Kili, trying to reassure and comfort him, but he seemed in a state of shock. It was understandable, given the circumstances. Most of Kili's responses were disjointed and confused, he still didn't seem to focus or truly see Dwalin. 

Kili's glove was sodden with blood and Dwalin peeled the fabric from his skin carefully. Kili didn't even flinch though. The only reaction he got as Dwalin carefully bathed the sliced flesh across his palm was Kili uttering his brother's name as if he expected Fili to appear at his side when called. 

Dwalin closed his eyes and tried not to think about what condition the bodies in the other two tombs would be in. He felt tired and a little lightheaded from the excitement of the morning. After taking a couple of steadying breaths, Dwalin bandaged Kili's hand. 

***

He couldn't see her this time. Dwalin was stood on a pinnacle of rock, the way down too shear and too far to contemplate. The vortex swirled around him, sucking the black nothingness into more tapering space. When he breathed, a cloud of icy breath came out, the milky edges swirling into feathered points as that, too, were sucked away. 

At his toes, a pale shoot sprung from a crack in the rock. The rush of air ripped and tore at the delicate thing, making it bounce and dance. What chance did it have here? It would be torn away soon enough. 

She was here. He couldn't see her, but she was here. 

 

***

"ARGH!" 

Dwalin jerked awake to the scream in his ear. For a moment he was disorientated. He felt like he had fallen in his dreams and the bed had caught him. His heart raced, his chest like it was folding in on him in his panic. 

Then he realised that it wasn't only his panting that he could hear in his ears. His alarm became something less urgent as he remembered Kili. 

Dwalin turned on his bed slowly, partly because he was balanced on the edge and didn't want to fall off, partly so not to startle his bedmate. Earlier, Kili had fallen into a slumber while Dwalin tended to him, so the big dwarf had tucked him into a blanket to warm him up and then, also exhausted, had fallen asleep beside him. 

Kili had his head turned to him, his dark eyes dilated. His brow crinkled into a frown. 

"Dwalin?" 

Dwalin smiled lightly at the recognition. He had been afraid that Kili would continue in the confused state that he had come back in. There had been few terms laid out in this deal, the one that he had come to in his dreams. He should have paid more attention to the details, if any had been given.

"Aye, laddie. It's me." 

"Where...?" Kili shifted, for a moment getting caught up in the blanket, before managing to get it loose enough to prop himself up on his side. "Where am I?" 

"In my chambers. In Erebor. You are home."

"... Fili?" 

"You should rest." 

Kili didn't argue. Dwalin could see the sadness form in the lines on his face, though. The flicker of his eyes as he remembered the last hours of his life from _before_. 

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Dwalin got to his feet. He took the pillow he had been lying on and motioned to put it under the younger dwarf's head. Kili watched him intently as he lay back on the bed. 

"You must be hungry, I'll get some food for you," Dwalin took Kili's hand and patted it. It was so icy still. He'd get a hot drink for him too. 

"Starving," Kili agreed, putting on a smile that looked slightly wrong for him. 

Dwalin tucked the blanket back around the other dwarf and left with the promise that he wouldn't be long. 

***

That promise was more difficult for Dwalin to keep than he would have liked. As soon as he left his chambers, he was swarmed by dwarves wanting to know that the young prince was still alive and well. As suspected, the other two unearthed tombs had not bared such agreeable findings. 

Dwalin had chosen. He had been selfish. But he had chosen. 

It took some, repeated, reassurance that Kili was fine and awake, but resting. Even those that were satisfied by the answer continued to huddle around him as he tried to make his way to the kitchen. There were those that questioned Dwalin's ability to care for the risen prince. After all, he had a reputation as a warrior, not a healer. But for every voice that called for Kili to be taken into Dale or for an elf to be reluctantly sent for, several others rose to defend Dwalin as a close confidant to the fallen king and surely a welcome familiar face to the now risen one.

That made Dwalin uneasy; those that skipped over the title of Prince and instead moved straight on to King. That could cause trouble, and it was something that Dwalin had not considered nor intended. 

"Brother." As if to confirm that worry, there was Balin, greeting him. 

Dwalin smiled and nodded. In return he received a look of joy on that old and wise face as like he hadn't seen for a long time. He nodded again, allowing himself a smile that reflected his brother's: Yes, it was truly Kili, he was alive and with them again. 

Even as his face grew more serious once more, Balin couldn't keep some of that light from it. "Dain wishes an audience with him." 

"Not yet," Dwalin shook his head. "He is tired and hungry. There will be time enough to come to agreements, I hope, later." 

"Aye. Then, let me help you to the kitchens." 

Dwalin welcomed both the help and the presence that his older brother cast among the other dwarves around them. They backed away and allowed a passage more or less unhindered to the kitchens, clearly accepting that with the addition of Balin, Dwalin must be acting in an official capacity for the King Under the Mountain, whoever that might be now. 

Once in the kitchens, they were granted some space and peace to talk alone.

"You haven't yet asked after Thorin or Fili..." Balin addressed Dwalin in a slow tone as he ladled hot broth into a deep bowl. 

Dwalin tried not to freeze. He busied himself slicing cuts of meat and placing them on a plate, next to honeyed bread. No, he hadn't, and now he wondered if that was an obvious mistake, or just Balin finding a relevant topic to open up further conversation about Kili. 

"No. I figured that if they were _with us_ , I would have heard about it by now." He lied carefully.

He tapped a boiled egg against the countertop, then began to peel away the shell with clumsy fingers. It was a harder task than it should have been and he took out scoops of thick egg white with many of the pieces of shell. The remaining egg looked like it had suffered multiple attacks when he placed the pitted thing on the plate. 

"True enough," Balin sighed as he placed the broth on a wooden serving tray. "I don't understand it, though." 

"We shouldn't question it, we should jus-" For a moment, the room lurched sideways. Then the plate that Dwalin had been taking to the tray just seemed to slip from his fingers. By the time it hit the floor, honey spraying from the bread, the plate smashing, everything had righted itself once more. 

Dwalin blinked down at the mess at his feet. Thick honey splattered his boot. The soft boiled egg was in pieces, the golden centre oozing over the white. Balin's hand came to Dwalin's shoulder but Dwalin shrugged it off quickly. 

"I'm tired, that's all. I'll clean this up." 

He turned from his brother before he could look into his face. He didn't want to see the worry he knew would be written there. It was an emotional day, that was all. But it was a good day. Kili was alive. There was no need for anyone to worry. 

***

Kili was sitting up on the bed when Dwalin returned to his chambers. The young dwarf was looking around with mild confusion furrowing his brows, but he recognised Dwalin when he entered and smiled at him. 

"How are you feeling?" Dwalin asked as he placed the tray of food on the bed.

"Ravenous," Kili reached out and snatched a piece of honeyed bread that Balin had silently prepared for Dwalin while he cleaned up the mess he'd made. "As if I haven't eaten in months." 

Kili stuffed the food into his mouth, but as he did so he raised his eyes as if he wanted to catch the expression on his friend's face. Dwalin was sure that he saw what he was looking for: It was impossible to keep his face straight when Kili was correct, he hadn't eaten in months. If he caught the wide eyed expression on Dwalin's face, though, Kili made no comment of it and returned to shovelling food in his maw. 

The room was lit by oil burners that had the duel effect of also providing heat, but the oil was burning low and shadows flickered on the rough walls, while the amber glow from them throbbed slowly. Dwalin busied himself topping up the oils while Kili ate, though he found himself looking over his shoulder frequently to check he was still there. Perhaps it was the shift from the dull light to a stronger burning one, but as he watched Kili cup his hands around the bowl of broth and sup noisily from it, Dwalin was sure that he could see a rosy tint return to his pale skin. He was glad that Kili was regaining his health. 

Dwalin's knee cracked as he got up from his crouched position next to one of the burners. For a moment his body felt heavier, as if he was decked out in full armour, and he thought that it might take a second try to push himself up. Thankfully, for his pride's sake, he managed to clear the floor on the first attempt with little more than a soft grunt.

It didn't take long at all for Kili to empty his plates and sit back again against the pillows. As Dwalin moved the tray to the floor beside the bed, his own stomach twisted and grumbled. It was by no means the first time that Dwalin had missed a couple of mealtimes, but it had been a busy day, of course he was hungry. 

"Do you want seconds?" 

In truth, he was of mind to snatch something for himself from the kitchens, but Kili shook his head, his cheeks full, like apples. Like his old cheeky self. Dwalin could be hungry for a little longer. 

"Very well. Let me check your hand." 

Dried blood spotted the fabric of Kili's bandage, the spread of the stain widening with each layer that Dwalin unwrapped. Yet, when he reached Kili's palm he was surprised to find that the long slice of wound was already healing well. The skin was knitting together after just a few hours, a tough scab forming a rough line down the centre of his palm. He would have expected the cut to still be open, at least weeping if not bleeding. But this was good, he was healing quickly. 

Thoughtlessly, Dwalin ran his finger down the raised flesh of the wound. He felt Kili shiver a little next to him, but he repeated the action, fascinated. He cradled the back of the younger dwarf's hand in his own large palm, and ran his fingers over the pads of Kili's hand, up along the length of his digits. Though in no way comparable to Elven hands, Kili's were slender and more nimble than that of many dwarrow. They were suited for that of an archer. At that thought, Dwalin stroked along the rough calluses that marked where Kili had nocked many arrows under Dwalin's watchful eye, as they trained back in the Blue Mountains. 

"Your hands are cold..." Kili's voice was soft. 

Dwalin startled and looked up into Kili's face. It was true, his hands were cold. In fact, even in the growing heat of the room, Dwalin felt a sliver of a chill that passed all over his skin like melting ice sliding up and down his body. 

"But yours are warm, now," he answered, unwilling to apologise for the liberty he was taking. 

Kili's head cocked a little to the side. His eyes were as warm as his flesh, and just as inviting. His mouth pink and plump as it smiled lightly. Kili raised his other hand and wrapped it around Dwalin's. The little cavern that the hands formed around his cold fingers were like embers in a stoked furnace. 

For a short while, they sat in silence, peacefully watching each other's eyes while Kili rubbed fire into Dwalin's icy hands. Kili's lips parted, it seemed, minutes before his voice found them. In truth it was probably only seconds. 

"Fili is dead, isn't he? And Thorin too." 

Dwalin jerked at the statement and tried to pull away, but Kili curled his fingers around Dwalin's wrist. It was surprising just how strong that gesture seemed to be. Insistent. So, instead, the warrior let his body relax again, it felt easier to do so anyway, more natural to succumb to Kili's gentle pressure. 

Dwalin nodded.

"I died, too." There was no question in Kili's voice. He continued to caress Dwalin's hands; both now between his own. His strokes were slow and firm. "I remember being with them, in a grand banquet hall."

"The Halls of Waiting?" 

Kili shrugged. 

"I was with uncle and my brother. There was no pain, just feasting. And then I woke up in the dark and I knew that I was alone and trapped, and so cold. Why am I not still with them?"

There were many lies that Dwalin could have told Kili in that moment. He could have lied absolutely and said that he did not know. Or he could have told the lie that he had been trying to tell himself: That he chose Kili because he was the youngest heir and could carry on the line of Durin. He couldn't lie, though, not with Kili's touch soaking into his flesh, as if the heat that he radiated was putting down roots deep inside his muscle. 

"Because I am selfish, and I wished it so." 

"I came back from the dead by your wish." 

It didn't sound like a question and Kili didn't sound all that surprised. Suddenly Dwalin felt caught and foolish. It was too late. The deal was done. 

"Aye. By my desire." 

The silence stretched out between them, the only sound the gentle skimming of flesh against flesh. Kili stroked his hands over Dwalin's wrists, his fingers stirring the hairs that bristled over his forearms. The bright illumination of the burners flickered so that the contrast of highlight and shadows over Kili's face pulsed in wavering patterns. 

Perhaps Kili nodded as he looked down, Dwalin couldn't be certain. But the young dwarf did drop his head. A veil of dark hair spilled forwards, however Dwalin could see the trace of movement as Kili's eyes darted over the short expanse of his lap in thought. 

"... Your desire?" 

Those dark eyes flickered up first, pupils as black as the vortex in his dreams. Then a sigh. Kili raised his head and shifted forwards. Dwalin felt those strong fingers again wrap around his wrists, holding both of his hands, pulling. 

The heat in Kili's lips was like sinking into a hot mountain spring. Dwalin could feel his whole body consumed, even though it was only his mouth that touched them. He let out a surprised, but pleased, grumble and followed the tug to his arms, leaning in to Kili's body. 

Kissing back, Dwalin felt the room shift again, but this time he didn't need to worry about his balance; he only needed lean in to Kili more. His wrists had been released, so he put them to the younger dwarf's body, his large hands fitting around that tidy, fleshy waist and pulling him to Dwalin, even as the warrior leaned more against him. Kili made a surprised noise as he was knocked off balance and on to his back, tumbling awkwardly into the mess of pillows and covers, Dwalin following on top. 

Dwalin was gasping, his breath thick and heavy as he pulled back. His heart beat in hard, slow bursts, like the last thumps of a wounded animal, and everything was hazy and torpid. Beneath him, Kili's eyes were blown, all the night stretching out in his gaze. His cheeks glowed, his mouth ruddy and kiss bruised. 

Kili laughed. "Take it easy. I'm convalescing, you know."

Dwalin smiled. He felt like saying that it was hard to tell: Kili seemed so well, and that it was he in fact that was feeling his age. But it was good to see that playful humour return to Kili when moments before Dwalin was sure that he had ruined everything with his selfish actions. So he stayed quiet and instead rolled off the other dwarf and dug under the covers of the bed beside him. 

The yellow light in the room danced across the walls, each flicker catching dark shadows in the carved out surfaces. Dwalin shivered along with the shimmering shapes. He could taste Kili's mouth on his lips, a little spicy like the broth, a little sweet from the honey. But there, at the back of his throat, that dead rodent had curled up once more. 

Pulling and rearranging the blankets, Kili snuggled up against Dwalin's side. He hummed softly and lay his head on Dwalin's broad chest. Heat soaked deep into the large dwarf, leaving him with the strange sensation of goosebumps running up one side of his body while the other was steeped in bone-deep comfort. 

Dwalin fell asleep mulling on that. 

***

Winter stone. The outcrop that he had been on was broken away and drifting in the darkness. Dwalin knelt, his hands and knees numb from the icy ground. He had never missed the warmth of the sun so much. 

Out there in the blackness, somewhere, Dwalin thought that there might be other islands of rock. He felt like if he squinted hard enough, he could perhaps see them, but then the dark would overwhelm him and he'd have to look down at his hands for fear that he'd been struck blind. 

Sometimes, he thought that he could hear her speak, or see the vortex in the far distance. Sometimes he thought he heard other voices.

Even though the ground was barren, a small sapling grew beside him. It was twisted and gnarled, large thorns protruding from the branches. And yet, the ugly tree bore fruit and flowers, its leaves a glowing green against its dark backdrop. Its roots writhed, thick probes that lurched up and jabbed down into the stone, causing cracks to splinter under his hands. Dwalin understood that the tree took its nourishment from the rock, that that was the reason the ground was so icy to the touch. 

Eventually, the tree would destroy the rock in its attempt at survival, and Dwalin would be thrown into the void. 

*** 

"I dreamed of a beautiful maiden..." Kili was still resting on his chest when he reopened his eyes. He was grinning. He kissed Dwalin's nose and his breath was hot on his skin. 

Dwalin's toes were numb. His throat scratchy. 

"She said that desire could bring back Fili and uncle Thorin too. Do you think it so?" 

Dwalin thought of the distant islands in his dream. The voices he hadn't been able to catch. He thought of the crowds in the burial chamber and all those that mourned and missed the sons of Durin. He thought of the tree that never asked to be planted on such a hopeless rock. 

"Aye, I think it so." 

It was too late.


End file.
